How to comfort a grieving parent

Tuesday

Dec 4, 2012 at 6:00 AMDec 27, 2012 at 9:03 AM

In September of last year, Irene Rowland and her husband went through every parent's worst nightmare when their son, Christopher, took his own life. Here, Irene shares her experience with us, along with some suggestions of ways to help grieving parents.

by Irene Rowland

In September of last year, Irene and Michael Rowland went through every parent's worst nightmare when their son, Christopher, took his own life. Here, Irene shares her experience with us, along with some suggestions of ways to help grieving parents.

Our life was similar to yours: raising children, enjoying life, experiencing the ups and downs of the journey together. Then, in an instant, our lives were forever changed. We were told there was a serious accident and that our son was in critical condition on life support. Our eldest, at 30 years old, died by suicide. Christopher was one of the last people I would envision doing this. He was well loved by so many friends and family. He was intelligent, funny, had lots of passions and interests and a heart of gold. He was always willing to help others in any way he could.

Fortunately for many of you, you know very little about suicide or of the loss of a child. I'd like to share with you some things to give some insight into both. I didn't realize that this could happen without obvious warning signs. I was unaware that good, decent people could lose hope to the degree that this would seem a solution.

Also unknown to me was that this can happen in any type of family. I'm ashamed to say that I expected to meet survivor families who are dysfunctional, unloving, or worse whose lost loved one was also some negative stereotype. I found out that is far from the reality. The statistics are staggering. An average of 32,000 people in the U.S. die by suicide each year which equates to one person every 14 minutes. It is the sixth leading cause of death for children 5 to 14 years old and the second leading cause for college students. Most suicidal people don't want to die, they just want the pain to end. More Americans suffer from depression (19 million) than coronary heart disease (7 million), cancer (6 million) and HIV (200,000) combined. Only 30% of people who are depressed seek help; maybe more would if it were called cancer. Depression knows no boundaries and can happen to anyone. Suicide is caused by an illness. It is not a character flaw or a sign of weakness. These are all awareness issues and most of us are unaware of these facts because there is still such a stigma that these are taboo topics. Your loved ones are not immune, so if you note any kinds of changes or something out of the ordinary, ask questions.

What do you do or say to a friend or family member who has lost a child? Regardless of whether it was by accident, illness or suicide, many are in unfamiliar territory when this happens and just don't know how to handle the situation. Here's what I've learned from my experience. Losing a child is the wrong order of events whether that child is two years old or thirty years old. Parents normally die first, so this intensifies the grief. Suicide complicates things further. For any type of loss, the rules are the same.

• Do show up--for the funeral, to bring by a casserole or whatever. Friends, even close ones, sometimes don't know what to say, are afraid they'll say the wrong thing, don't handle death well, and so they stay away. Some don't even send a heartfelt note because they just don't know what to say. You may later hear from a mutual friend how badly they felt and that they think of you often. Bottom line, it's hurtful and just adds insult to injury.

• Don't say "Just let me know if you need anything." We're too shocked and/or depressed to think straight. Just bring by food, paper plates, cups, Kleenex, chocolate, whatever. Nobody is interested in going to a noisy grocery store or anywhere else for that matter for quite a while. If there are siblings, offer to take them to a movie, the park, anywhere. Then we can cry as loudly as we want without fear that we'll upset them further, or take a needed nap, or just not have to take care of someone else's needs for a little while.

• Don't be hurt if phone calls aren't returned. No matter how promptly we used to return calls, sometimes we just can't do it for days or weeks etc. Leave nice messages, or send cards or emails. They'll be listened to, read and appreciated. It just might take a while to come out of the fog enough to respond.

• Invite the parent to lunch, to go for a walk etc. It most likely will be quite a while before we feel up to accepting an invitation, but it's nice to know you're being thought of. Don't give up inviting, the "yes" may come in a different week or even a different month.

• I've found (and every parent I've spoken with agrees) that what people amazingly think is comforting is actually the opposite. The only thing most of us find comforting are hugs and/or the words “I'm so, so sorry for your loss” and “I'm praying for your family.” Period, that's it. Pretty much anything else is upsetting or insulting; then we're put in the awkward position of knowing that you're trying to be compassionate, but we just want you to stop talking.

• Telling us about your friend's experience with losing a child, or when you lost your beloved pet, or the neighbor's cousin etc is of no comfort at this time. Reminding us that luckily we have other children isn't a comfort. Pointing out the silver lining isn't the way to go. In time we may see clearly what blessings have come from our tragedy, but we don't need others to point them out. It stings; we know what the silver linings may be, but none of these blessings bring our child back and that's what we really want. If they were sick or in pain we want them back healthy. Reminding us that they're in a better place is like all the other comments. We want them here. I personally have a strong faith and it does bring me comfort that my son is happy with Jesus, but the fact is that I want him happy here and then later to be happy with Him. People have said things like “Cheer up, it's time to smile again.” “There's a new year right around the corner and things will start looking up.” These comments are meant to be encouraging, but what it says to a grieving parent is “You're doing this whole grieving thing wrong or taking too long and it's making the rest of us uncomfortable.” We each grieve differently and on our own timetable and there's no right or wrong way to do it.

I could give so many examples of what was meant to be helpful but was hurtful. Suffice it to say we want very few words, like "I'm so sorry, we're praying for you." That's it. Hugs, a shoulder to cry on, listening, nodding and showing love through actions are all things that can be comforting. Some try to be brave and don't want to upset you by crying in your presence, but there's a comfort in having others cry with you.

You may be surprised by some of this information. I surely was, but now I know it to be true from both my experiences and those of the bereaved families I have met. My wish is that you never need this information but if that day comes, hopefully something from this article is of help.

Flutters

Memories fill my mind,
Memories of little flutter kicks when I carried you within
Sweet sounds of nursing, pattycake and silly games
Reading the same stories over and over
Baking cupcakes for school, pranks with your brothers
Riding your bike as fast as you could
Hanging out with your friends
Dances and proms, cap and gown
Working and enjoying life
Discovering you could get all good grades
Proudly walking with honors in another cap and gown
Fun, laughter and love shared with family and friends
Making a difference in the worlds of everyone you knew
Having your first home built…
I went from kissing boo-boos
to sharing leisurely lunches with my son when our schedules allowed
My life once looked like other moms' lives
Our three sons growing into fine young men
Family dinners, dreams unfolding
Some moms carry photos of their children and grandchildren in their purses
My purse though is different
I only carry memories now
If you could see inside my purse
I have a photo of our eldest son, poems I've written to express my sorrow
And a copy of his suicide note
How did we get here? How did it come to this?
Over and over I retrace in my mind from baby steps to thirty years later
where only the flutter of angel wings remains.

Irene Rowland grew up in Massachusetts, married a Marine and subsequently lived all over the U.S. They have been married for 35 years and have three sons. She was a grad student at North Georgia College and State University studying to be a counselor when they lost their son on September 2, 2011. She will graduate in May 2013. Writing has been therapeutic in the healing process and sharing her words with others is a way to continue Chris's legacy of helping others.